like a broken record
by xenovia
Summary: We'll replay, on and on and on and on—perhaps our story was just never meant to end. / Series of drabbles. Prompt five: seeing red.
1. blink

**blink.**

* * *

Her hands trembled and quaked and dripped with spilled blood, pouring from the wounds of the countless corpses dotting the ground all around her, pink-tinted eyes widened with horror and terror simultaneously as the slithering snake's cackles echoed along every bloodstained surface.

"You thought you could win," he chuckled once again, hands gripping his stomach, mockingly mimicking the way he'd plunged a knife into the invisible girl's stomach just minutes before. "You actually thought you could win. How pathetic." She choked, salty tears cascading down her face. It had come to this again. She was the only one, once again.

"You could've saved them, though," he continued with a wide grin on his bloody face, "not like this, though. You're _useless _if you pretend you are something you're not - something _less _than you are." The snake stepped forward, a snap ringing out as his foot crushed the wrist of a girl with tangerine hair.

Her heart skipped a beat, eyes focused on the ground. He advanced further.

"I've told you before, haven't I?"

Step.

"You have such raw _power," _he hissed.

Step.

"Why don't you use it?"

Her head flung up wildly, eyes wide like saucers as pink met yellow and eyelashes brushed over air to notice everything was reset once again - as always.


	2. life

**life.**

* * *

Everything was dull and mundane nowadays. She couldn't stare out the window of the classroom and gaze at the beautifully painted sky with wonder anymore, as she'd lost the ability to do so. She couldn't depict highly imaginative scenarios within her mind anymore, or embark on wild and fun adventures with her three younger siblings because she couldn't - she'd truly lost her sense of wonder, and it felt as if she was helplessly and unwillingly floating away from reality.

Perhaps it was that which triggered her into sitting above the wired fence of the rooftop, breathing lightly as the wind tossed her hair and her beloved yet old red wool scarf. Perhaps it was the papers, the research on her two friends and the statistics printed out upon them for an insane experiment - an experiment her father himself was conducting. Perhaps it was the detached look in Shintaro's abyssal eyes whenever he looked at her, uninterested and hopelessly bored. Or maybe it was her own selfish greed that brought her to this stage, the hunger to satisfy her family and to see them smile with joy.

Either way, she was going to end everything tonight, and she was going to finally make everyone happy. She was going to get those special red eyes to prove to her family that they weren't monsters - red is the color of a hero, after all. A small smile graced the girl's lips at the memory of her younger self preaching this to her new brothers and sister, stubby arms wrapping a red scarf around her neck and never taking it off afterwards. She was going to enter the world they once did, and she was going to exit the same as them - red-eyed and a hero.

Ayano looked to the light stars beginning to dot the purple sky, mixed in with smog and blackening clouds. Her eyes glittered among their pale light, shining for the final time with hope and the last bit of wonder she'd had within herself. Her hands slowly let go of the metal bar and her legs swung out before her and she fell forward gracefully, sucking in her breath and closing her eyes and imagining herself flying through beautiful worlds full of pretty red colors. A bittersweet taste invaded her mouth, and she popped open an eyelid just before she hit the ground.

Oh, how easily life is thrown away.


	3. youth

**youth.**

* * *

"Tsubomi's so cute when she's flustered!"

"Shut up, Shuuya!"

Ayaka and Kenjirou sat beside each other, hands intertwined while watching their two children bicker like an old couple, smiles pressed on both their faces. Shuuya had done something to provoke Tsubomi, as he always seemed to do, and she was flipping out on him, as she always seemed to do. It was an endless yet undoubtedly amusing cycle, watching the two youngsters quarrel back and forth. It almost always ended up with the two falling asleep beside each other on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket together, resting on each other as if they were some cute couple and not rivals.

"They're so adorable," Ayaka mused, resting her head on her husband's shoulder. He let out a low, humble chuckle.

"Youth, you know," he sighed, stretching out his arms and wrapping one around Ayaka's waist. She looked up and smiled at him.

"You say that as if _we _aren't youthful anymore," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him and poking his cheek affectionately. He could only slip out a nervous laugh, eyes glued to the green-haired girl and cat-eyed boy arguing forth and back.

_Ah, youth._


	4. change

**change.**

* * *

He couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything to save her.

Shuuya looked down at his feet, ignoring the pitter-patter of the rain on the shoddy rooftop of the home he shared with his two siblings and father and the static noise emanating from the TV in the living room. The house was near empty save for him, holed up in his room with his knees pulled up to his chest and his curtains pulled to block any stray light from entering.

He'd lost. He'd lost yet another battle, lost yet another loved one.

First, it had been his mother. He was helpless and shivering in the corner as the men garbed all out in black pulled their knives out and jabbed it into her screeching and writhing form more times than he could bear to count - and then he followed. Second was Ayaka, with her pretty brown locks swept into a ponytail and her last kisses pressed to his temples as she waved her final goodbye before leaving with Kenjirou. But she never returned; she was crushed to death among piles of heavy rocks and tree branches and mud, and her body had never even been found - yet they'd built a grave for her anyway, and he couldn't even count how many times he'd visited the empty gray place and cried for her to return.

Now, it was Ayano. Ayano, with her favorite red muffler and honey-brown eyes, crinkled as she laughed with him and Tsubomi and Kousuke over silly jokes found on the internet after school. Ayano, with creative tall tales to spare and countless stars of wonder embedded in her eyes. Ayano, who'd never told anyone of how she felt inside and instead turned to tossing herself off the great roof of the high school she attended.

Yes, Ayano, who was once living but now splattered in pieces on the ground.

Shuuya's nails dug deep into the sides of his calves, choking back tears at the thought of her whispering her last words before leaning slightly forward and plummeting down to the earth. She'd never told a single person or even hinted at a single negative thought - she was even better at deceiving other than he was, of tricking everyone else into thinking she was fine and dandy. He, however, couldn't even lie all that well despite it being his one and only talent - what a pathetic existence he lived.

Perhaps he could be like Ayano, though. Perhaps he could permanently glue this useless masks to his despicable and ugly face, and pretend to not be the monster he knows he truly is -

Yes, a change would be good. He couldn't bring back Ayano, but he could certainly pretend that nothing was wrong. He could carry on a legacy of sorts.


	5. seeing red

**seeing red.**

* * *

His small eyes widened when the gun was pressed to her stomach and the trigger was pulled, displaying a show of red droplets flying through the air as she fell back and her dark green hair was stained with her own life force. Her body collided harshly with the cement of the ground, bouncing back up with a strangled choking noise and her hands covering the horrendous wound in her stomach.****

The man in all black standing above her cackled, twisting the gun around in his hands with a sadistic look printed on his pallid face. His yellow eyes glowed brighter than humanly possible, and when he pointed the gun down at Tsubomi's face, Shuuya was finally able to emit a loud, ear-splitting shriek.

His legs moved on their own. He reached out his hands towards her wounded body, mask discarded and tears already cascading down his face, racing towards her and the man. But he simply turned his head to him, looking at him as if he was a mere speck of dust, and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew through the tense air to her skull, and all noise was cut off immediately afterwards, blood pooling all over the ground around her corpse. Shuuya couldn't even manage anything else but a whimper as he finally arrived by her side, dropping to his knees and pulling her close. Too late. He was much, much too late. The man with an eerily similar appearance to Konoha chuckled, kicking Tsubomi's motionless, limp leg carelessly.

"It always seems to end up something like this," he called out emptily, his voice hollow and emotionless. He pointed the gun at Shuuya's head, who did nothing to move and simply wailed over Tsubomi's dead body.

"Liars never get a happy ending. Didn't you know that?"

He pulled the trigger.


End file.
